


Requiem

by justmariamay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, Betrayal, Blindness, Character Death, Croatoan Virus, Dreamwalking, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fallen Michael, Inspired by Poetry, Jealousy, Loyalty, Lucifer Being a Dick, Lucifer Wins, M/M, Rating May Change, Redemption, Zachariah Being a Dick, deafness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmariamay/pseuds/justmariamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle ends before it starts and no one's there to pay the reparations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/gifts).



Recent events has turned off the planned rout, predictable as it’s been it still frustrates Zachariah to no end. And the most frustrating is not the Winchesters or demon swarming the Earth by this moment, but Michael. It becomes more and more obvious that Michael doesn’t want to fight. He’s ready to, there is no doubt, but he isn’t ready to win. Zachariah would lie if he said he didn’t see it coming.

Watching the Milligan boy dancing with a girl in this small paradise of his own, the seraph wonders if it’s worth to break this simple and innocent happiness for nothing. Oh, he wouldn’t be sorry to do that, He doesn’t care for anyone’s happiness. But seeing how all his efforts come so cheap every damn time is not what he was cut out for. He always shared Lucifer’s biggest sin – pride.

Michael has given him another chance to get his vessel consent, but truth to be told Zachariah is less than thrilled. He’s a warrior, not a negotiator. But what is alternative? The future that he showed to Winchester is worse than surrender – it leads them nowhere.

What happens if Michael kills Lucifer? What happens if Lucifer kills Michael? What happens if Lucifer wins and doesn’t kill Michael? What has to be certain now seems fragile and dubious. One way or another, it will be ugly. Every solution is worse than previous. Unless… but how can one take the constant from the equation and turn it into a variable? It’s impossible. A paradox.

He can ignore all of this, if Michael shows that he’s ready. Time is not on his side and he makes his way up to the highest Heaven at once.

It’s hollow and cold up there. The empty throne and the prince that sits like a dog at its foot.

“You are not allowed here, Zachariah,” Michael reminds him.

“There is no one who can forbid me,” there wasn’t for centuries. And yet he comes here only now.

“What happened?” the eldest angel asks tiredly. Even God doesn’t know for what time Zachariah sees Michael this weary and sad.

With Michael there is only simplest words needed. Or no words at all.

“Tell me one thing, Michael,” he comes closer until Michael’s grace touches his. “One simple thing and I’ll stop questioning you,” he didn’t say ‘questioning the Plan’. The archangel looks at him with his infuriating calmness, waiting. “Will you really kill him, Michael?”

Michael doesn’t lower his eyes, his look is open and dark.

“I have to.”

Zachariah knows and it’s not the answer he needs.

“Tell me you want to win,” then he forces out a breathless ‘please’. He’s not used to begging. “Please,” he says again louder.

“I must,” Michael doesn’t seem to understand that it is not enough, that it does, in fact, matter what he wants.

There is silence and Zachariah waits. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s waited too long. But he can wait more if that’s all Michael needs.

“If you need more time, then fine! Let’s shove Lucifer back in Hell and start over, it’s not too late!” it won’t be easy, but not impossible.

“I think I borrowed from time too much as it is,” Michael says quietly. “I have no right to back down.”

This is it. What else did he expect? Zachariah refuses to lose this easily. If they lose, they do it on his terms. He takes out his blade and shows it to Michael. Michael glowers warningly but half-heartedly at best. He doesn’t stand up.

“I don’t want to hurt you, brother,” it’s a lie. A goddamn lie! But does it really count when they both are aware of that? “I want to save you,” it’s a truth, painful and bitter. It is, because probably no one else will even try.

“How?” Michael asks and Zachariah can see that he thinks he’s already doomed. Whatever Father dearest commanded him, it wasn’t as simple as ‘kill Lucifer and rejoice’.

“The only way I know,” he replies.

The hard and cruel way.

He pulls Michael to his feet and buries the silver blade deep in his chest. He twists it and leads it up and down, slashing the currents of Michael’s grace. He makes it unnecessarily painful, but Michael will forgive him that. He wishes Michael would resist, fight back, realize he wants to live and win. But no. Not even a sound passes his lips and his gaze is watchful and burning.

Michael’s grace erupts violently, relentlessly. There is no use to cover from this white light and Zachariah lets it burn his eyes out, all of them: they drip down his hands, his faces and feathers, leaving him nearly blind, except for one wing. Two wings are incinerated. He is surprised he’s alive at all. He smells his own flesh burning, hears his bones creaking like wood in the fire. Pain is yet hiding behind his sharp senses, but it’s not long till it becomes clear.

It’s done, he realizes. But what exactly is it? It’s hard to be sure. Michael is gone, but where to? Sun gathers his grace like pearls on its rays and starts spilling it down on the forsaken Earth, its last drops touch Zachariah’s torn halo before disappearing completely.

The laugh that breaks through him is more like a sob. But it’s funny. No one has noticed yet. Nobody cares. Maybe only Raphael would if he was here.

Zachariah gracelessly descends back to fifth heaven, back to the armory. He pays no mind to Balthazar sneaking around and freezing in horror at seraph’s sight. Where did he put it? He forgot. Blindly and painfully he stretches out his arms. Ah yes. There it is. Even if he lost all of his eyes he would still find it.

He trails his fingers around it, wiping the dust of centuries out. His lantern still shins brightly, if not brighter than it used to. Bitter irony crosses Zachariah’s mind. His most beloved brother’s gift to him.

He’s deaf to Balthazar frightened voice behind him. He’s trying to catch the tune buried beneath his memories. He finds it eventually, for nothing can be forgotten, and the melody shoots out swiftly. It’s too light and too carefree and his voice can no longer sing it out loud, but even a memory calms his spirit.  It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He can finish what he started.

Zachariah wraps old rusty chain around his palm, mercilessly digging metal into burned naked flesh of his palm, he doesn’t want to lose it on his way. He forces his fingers to close and let the lantern hang. It’s heavier than he remembers.

Another angel’s grace intrudes his and he is turned to face Virgil. His features are carefully collected into expressionless mask. The keeper eyes the lantern in his hand. Oh, he knows, he remembers, too.

“What have you done, Zachariah?” the questions rings in the sacred silence with accusation. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing you can change now, Virgil,” the smile feels like another wound. “Find Raphael. Tell him it’s over.”

Raphael must be watching over the prophet, that miserable worm. He won’t fight Lucifer, not without Michael. Perhaps the archangel can finally rest after all he’s been through. He’s deserved at least that much.

Virgil steps back and looks at him as if he’s never seen him before. Of course, he’s became an object of derision among the angels. They forgot what he’s capable of. Well, with how Naomi tries to keep everything clean at any cost it’s not a big surprise. She never understood that they are not made to be clean. They are made to be pure.

“You heard me, Virgil,” he practically growls his name and the angel, as a good soldier that he is, follows the order. He pulls Balthazar after him and leaves the armory.

Zachariah needs to go as well. Easier said than done. The remains of his wings can barely carry him, not to mention the pain gets sharper with every breath. The start reminds him of a game he played when he was young. They plunged down and didn’t open their wings as long as possible. This game stopped being funny after the Fall.

He tries to follow the direction his lantern shows, but bits and pieces of his wings give out and he comes crushing down heavily. Heavily enough to leave a crater. Bones, that hasn’t yet been broken, break. Zachariah never had it this bad. The soul of his vessel is the only thing that keeps him intact.

Night replaced day twice before his seeing wing is lifted by someone’s cold hand. Someone’s…

“Ooh, what a sorry sight,” the devil smirks down at him. “You know I used to imagine you come crawling at my feet, Zachariah, and finally here you are,” Lucifer kicks him lightly but it makes him shout in agony.

He squeezes the chain in his hand, distracting himself with lesser pain. He stands up slowly, unsurely, after receiving few more kicks.

“Well, aren’t you tough, little brother,” it’s half mockery, half recognition.

“Took after you,” the seraph croaks.

“Indeed,” agrees Lucifer. “Looks like Michael finally decided to get rid of you.” He should have. Even being wrong Lucifer recognizes the nature of the damage. “What, regretting you chose him over me? Tell me now, where is your mighty Michael?” Lucifer throws up his hands.

Zachariah can’t help but sneer. More than anything Zachariah wants to throw it to Lucifer’s face. That Michael is gone and he won’t be his. That Michael won’t fight him and that Lucifer will never see him again.

“Nowhere,” seraph replies.

He raises the lantern up to his face to see better Satan’s reaction. In its holy light Lucifer’s true image comes through shadows. As does his own. They both have become harder on eyes since they last saw each other. And still Lucifer’s beauty is there, just colder and more distant.

Lucifer is so quiet. It doesn’t suit him at all. All this confusion and loss don’t belong on his face. Zachariah continues, to make sure Lucifer understands:

“He missed you,” he sees Lucifer’s face fall. “He missed you so much. He told me himself, you know. And only recently I realized I couldn’t let him see you again.”

He’s ready to be destroyed completely at this point. He knows exactly what he took from Lucifer. But Satan just stares at him and laughs.

“Your sense of humor has always been a little off. You almost fooled me here,” Lucifer wags his finger at him.

Ah, he doesn’t believe him. Blissful denial. Zachariah would cry if he could, he knows he really wants to for the first time since the first war. He almost feels sorry for Lucifer. And he really doesn’t know what to say except…

“The victory is yours, my prince. So is Heaven.”

The lantern teeters as another star burns out inside it. Zachariah used to treasure it so much. It hurts to remember how important it was to him. It hurts to remember anything. He repeats Lucifer’s own words when he offers it back:

“Now you can always find your way home, brother.”

With empty and freezing gaze Lucifer takes it. This leading light, that once belonged to him as much as the whole world did.

And just like this Michael’s rule is over and it seems strange that it was ever present. Or that Michael himself was ever here. Chaos has been cut too short. Few dare to question the new ‘god’, even Raphael has bowed his head in acceptance, hiding the sparks of rage behind eyelashes.

Well, they used to love him above all. They will learn to love him again.

Zachariah smiles to himself as if he isn’t about to be punished for his treason. There is no way Lucifer can forgive him his own easy victory and, honestly, he can choke on his forgiveness.

“The king is dead ‒ long live the king,” this simple phrase is enough to make Zachariah believe he did what everyone thinks he did. But no, nobody could’ve done it. After all, it happened to be too easy to be truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All compliant to what I have and have not yet written in Kyrie Eleison, it gives some background to some characters, but nothing is directly connected.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer wasn’t ready for this ‘victory’. He waited so long. How often did he imagine Michael on his knees for him? Him, not God, not lowly humans, but him, Lucifer. How often did he imagine Michael choking on his own blood trying to pray for forgiveness? Dead, alive, dying or shining, fighting or surrendering, but in his dreams Michael was there to grasp. In reality, Michael is no more. And Lucifer despises this reality.

Lucifer feels like he was played by Zachariah and nothing else. But what’s the motive? He could’ve died. He could die any moment and is obviously ready to. But Lucifer isn’t nearly merciful to give him death.

Once back on Earth he shoves the seraph on his knees before what seems like a simple rock.

“Remember this place?”

Another unnerving smile splits eyeless face.

“Oh yes.”

Lucifer himself wasn’t here, but Hell couldn’t forget this for a long time. After what for demons what a slaughter, the Gates were shut close in this particular place. And those who survived told about a six-winged horror with long claws and flaming sword.

Just a snap of his fingers, though painful for his breaking vessel, and the seals fall. Someone’s already scratching on the other side of the door. Horde of demons are waiting for one little push. Lucifer won’t make them wait for long.

“All traitors belong in Hell,” Lucifer says casually.

“Does it mean you’ll keep me company?”

This earns Zachariah a particularly strong slap. Lucifer was the one betrayed.

“Even if I shared your crime, I’ve already served my term.”

Zachariah spits blood and closes his mouth shut. Snarky brat.

Lucifer breaks the doors without touching them. Black cloud of demons and cursed souls rushes out to the surface, longing for sun that doesn’t welcome them. Lucifer tears down Zachariah’s vessel and taking his essence (thankfully, there is not much left) and throws it into the pit. Reluctantly he follows. He didn’t think he’d have to return. But now he’s a king, not a prisoner.

The angel at his feet is helpless. Still, Lucifer lights holy fire around his yet formless being.

_‘How many of us fell into this abyss?’_ he wonders. A legion. And then he was alone. Now he has no idea how many of them are still alive. They can’t be all dead, can they? Maybe some are still here, in their personal cages like he was.

He waits for only demon he can trust enough with such prisoner. Azazel’s daughter, who inherited her father’s loyalty to him. And while she’s not thrilled to return here as well, but she’ll do anything for him and will treasure any sign of his credence. She responds to his call quickly.

“Who is this?” Meg points down.

White wounded lion curls up into a ball so close to holy fire that his breath touches it. Lion… well, human form would be too pathetic. He seems asleep, but Hell never gives rest, especially to sinners.

“That is my treacherous brother, Meg. Visit him from time to time, just don’t let him escape like Castiel,” though even if he manages to pass the circle of fire, there are several circles of Hell. Too bad he can’t put him in that cold narrow cage. “Tread him carefully.”

“He’s not my type,” Meg mumbles remembering her naïve mistake and Lucifer is reminded just how much of a child she still is. He pats her cheek and before leaving, puts the lantern down right outside the line of fire.

Whatever it is, pity or the remnants of affection he once held for his little brother, Lucifer knows all the horrors that hide in the darkness of damnation. But he doubts that even this pure light can keep all the nightmares at bay. Only his will saved Lucifer from being devoured, but how much of will is left in barely alive angel?

“I’ll drop by again, to claw the rest of your eyes out,” he promises. To Meg he says: “If you think you can have fun without him biting your head off ‒ please do.” She’s a talented torturer, and she should practice her skills.

Though he’s tempted to stay on Earth a little longer to see how his Horsemen are doing, Nick is already breaking. In Heaven he won’t need gallons of that filthy blood to fix it.

The ascend is easier the second time, but still feels surreal. Heaven doesn’t deny him, nor does it welcome him. Still, inhaling its ether and basking in starlight is more than he hoped for. Angels are mostly afraid of him, but they don’t even try to question his authority, thanks to Raphael.

Raphael. Lucifer hasn’t spoken to him yet. What is he to say? What is there to say? What would Raphael want to hear from him? He’s afraid they can’t be further apart after everything. Lucifer fails to recognize another archangel’s grace among all other.

Feeling just a little lost he wanders in the new Garden. Everything changed here. The only Eden he remembers was drowning in fire and black smoke. This garden is green, blossoming and peaceful. Too quiet maybe. The beauty is breathtaking, but alien in some heart-piercing way. He is stranger in his own home.

On his way he meets Joshua, who measures him with his calm eyes carefully. He looks… old. Someone told him, Father speaks to Joshua and only him. Interesting. But it’s funny how the need to see his brother easily overshadows the wish to learn about Father. It can wait. Joshua steps away respectfully and shows him the way. Lucifer nods stiffly and takes the pointed path. He can see Joshua behind his back shaking his head in disapproval, regret or even pity.

Finally finding Raphael, Lucifer hesitates to come closer, his steps become lighter. Raphael is on his knees, palms are laid on the ground. He acknowledges Lucifer’s presence with small ‘hello’.

“I was trying to gather what was left from Michael,” Raphael explains standing up. “And it’s… It’s everywhere… His grace is soaked into every pillar of Heaven. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“It’s simply unfair,” Lucifer rephrases. Raphael glances at him and nods.

Lucifer understands. He has several scars that still burn with that devastating grace, they are all he has that gives him any semblance of warmth. Sometimes, when the old wounds hurt, he felt like he could melt, but this heat only hardened him. 

“I still can’t understand. Why would Zachariah do such a thing?” Raphael braces himself as if he’s cold. Maybe he is, because of Lucifer.

“He turned on me when I counted on him. It was only a question of time,” Lucifer says angrily.

“No, he was most loyal to Michael, never let him down, always tried to protect him. And if he chose him over you…”

“Then why he betrayed him?! Out of loyalty?!” Lucifer interrupts sharply. Raphael doesn’t seem affected.

“You betrayed Father out of loyalty, or so you claimed,” Raphael notices without a shadow of ill-meaning.

“I didn’t betray Him,” he stubbornly insists.

“If you say so.”

Raphael’s indifference is troubling. Lucifer can’t remember seeing him like that. He remembers shy, but passionate angel, with tender heart and lovely smile. But this Raphael has stern gaze and heavy step, he smells with blood and pain, and at the same time he’s naturally regal in his mournful bearing. Quiet before the storm kind of danger galvanize the air around him. Honestly, Lucifer finds this Raphael much more beautiful than he remembers, but doesn’t like what he sees in the least.

“Your vessel is giving out,” Raphael states the obvious. And before Lucifer can reply Raphael is right in front of him and his grace starts filling the cracks, his hands not too gently pull him together. Lucifer gasps in surprise, this is too intense for him and way too casual for Raphael. Trying to distract himself from this, he remembers something important:

“Where is Gabriel? He isn’t…”

“No, no, of course not,” Raphael turns away. “He’s just not here and is not coming back.”

It’s obvious that Raphael knows more, as much as it’s obvious that he doesn’t appreciate the topic. But Lucifer has right to know.

“Why did he leave?”

“Michael. Why else?” Raphael chuckles bitterly. Indeed. Michael was never good at keeping anyone around.

“Why did you stay?” Lucifer asks before he can stop himself.

“Michael. Why else?” Raphael repeats emptily still not looking at him. After a long pause he adds: “Michael was all I had left. No faith, no strength, just my brother, who had it all in abundance.”

The confession lies heavily on Lucifer’s mind. He desperately wants to reach for Raphael and show him that he can be here for him, that he still loves him. But his wings and arms are too numb to move them.

Suddenly Raphael rests one hand on Lucifer’s chest, right where his heart is. It’s the first touch from Raphael that feels intimate, not clinical, it’s the first time when his brother looks directly at him.

“I would have chosen you, Lucifer, if you only gave me a choice. I’d have chosen you in a heartbeat, without doubt and regret,” Raphael’s voice breaks a little and Lucifer’s heart breaks a little more along with it.

“I know,” of course he knew. Raphael’s love was beyond price and measure when it came to Lucifer. Raphael adored him. Trusted him. Yes, so did many others, but Lucifer adored Raphael right back, his kind and precious little brother. That’s why he couldn’t tell him to fight for him.

Warm healing hands withdraw from him and Lucifer suffers from this loss more than he expected. Raphael looks down once again.

“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you,” _for Father and Gabriel_ goes unsaid, but Lucifer hears exactly that. He hates that it sounds like and honest apology, not a sarcastic comment.

“Raphael…” Lucifer starts and realizes he has nothing. And even if he had, why would Raphael believe him?

He decides it’s better to leave Raphael alone before he says something worse.

“Thank you for…” he shows at his vessel, now as good as new, only much better.

“Anytime,” Raphael replies.

He probably got used to everyone bringing him their pain to take and wounds to mend. And Lucifer, too, gave him nothing more, and at time like this... All of sudden, he’s very certain that Michael never did that. He never complained. Never shed a tear as Lucifer remembers, not once. But Michael was just insensitive bastard.

Anger grips his heart again and scratches his lungs with blunt nails. It’s not something unusual, only this time he can’t direct this anger at anyone particular. But he just hates that Michael is dead and the whole world just carries on. Not for long. Not for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer, you fucking asshole, give Raphael a hug! He'll hug you back, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the chapter is Gadreel being confused and having, you know, feels.

Gadreel forgot he could bleed. All the pain and torture he endured, but there was never a bloodshed during his captivity. He also forgot he could have emotions beyond wrath and sorrow. Seeing Lucifer here, seeing him untethering his bonds and feeling freezing touch upon his skin makes him remember. And a gentle trace left by silvery blade makes the stale blood run again, warm and alive.

The chains fall and this unbearable lightness sharply pierces his being. All Gadreel can do is stare helplessly at the brightest of stars in awe and disbelief not daring to blink and chase away the vision.

“Helel…” he says the name he can’t help both loathing and cherishing, betrayal forever fresh and heavy upon his heart, but the day he carelessly let Lucifer into the Garden is blurry in Gadreel’s memory. Cold wind and bright red on snow-white feathers…

“Shhh,” Lucifer caresses his hair and the gesture is more possessive than tender.

Has Gadreel finally lost his mind? He’s been holding on for far too long after all. But warm blood is running down his face is more real than anything he experienced for… for just how long?

Not trusting his weakened limbs and heavy wings, Gadreel stand, but falls into himself instead, because next moment he’s aware again, he stands among other angels, other prisoners. Lucifer is saying something. Gadreel searches Abner in this small crowd. His friend’s eyes show fear and… hope, as Lucifer addresses him and gently, so bloody gently, asks his name, rank and guilt.  

“Your crime is forgiven,” the Morning Star says these words to each prisoner. He forgives them all, one by one, as they confess their sins, and then they leave in confusion and gratitude, one by one, until there is only him and Gadreel.

What’s now? Gadreel wonders.

“Are you going to forgive me as well?” he challenges. His and Lucifer’s crimes are tied up in one tight knot and Lucifer is the last to judge him. But Lucifer only smiles at him, and there is no more patronizing mocking, it’s something bitter, something deadly. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?” it finally dawns on him just how wrong it is.

“Didn’t you listen?” Lucifer shakes his head. “Oh, Gadreel…”

“What?” he realizes he doesn’t want to know, as familiar fear starts whispering in his ears.

Lucifer silently takes his hand and leads him from this now empty prison. Gadreel follows without a word, suddenly feeling small. Lucifer feels big, somehow even bigger than he remembers, but he lost all his warmth. Cold creeps up Gadreel’s arm, to his shoulders and to his tortured wings, freezing stubborn ache into blissful numbness.

On their way Gadreel can barely recognize any angel. He catches a glimpse of Izeril’s halo and soft edge of Lailah’s wing. Most of those who knew him, knew him beyond his mistake are dead for a long-long time. Gadreel is aware that all the rest probably think that he’s worse than Lucifer, that he and Lucifer are allies, he can physically sense their scorn on his drained skin. 

They stop and Gadreel finds himself staring at that cursed tree. It’s the same, same black bark, same fruits heavy with juice, while everything else changed beyond recognition. It always made him feel uneasy. Last time he was here, right in front of it, he told Azazel that Father always forgave. So, he was dead wrong.

Lucifer lets go of his hand, but cold stays with hoar frost on his feathers. Gadreel turns to look at his brother, half expecting an execution. It wouldn’t be the worst place. To his surprise Lucifer averts his eyes and says:

“He’s dead, Gadreel.”

Before he can ask who, he glances at the tree again and… no, he doesn’t understand at all.

Lucifer looks at him again, his eyes are cold and empty.

“Michael is gone. He was gone before I could have him,” an attempted smile turns into a grimace of sincere pain. “I should be glad, I should be so damn happy.”

Gadreel’s mind refuses to wrap around this nonsense. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Michael is eternal. Michael is invincible. Michael is… But if Lucifer is here, ordering everyone around, then Michael indeed must be gone. It’s only logical. Gadreel tries to see into Lucifer and find anything that can tell him that Lucifer lies. There is nothing. Gadreel wishes the ice in his wings reached his heart as well. With bitterness he asks:

“Then why aren’t you?”

Lucifer keeps his stare, empty eyes light up with life and anger. Gadreel expects Lucifer to burst with self-righteous fury and tell him how he expected to be the one to kill Michael. It would be true, of course, but there is also another truth. Something unspoken between them finally takes form and turn into words.

“I loved him first, Gadreel,” Lucifer points out the obvious.

“I know,” he could never argue that. Lucifer knew Michael longest, from the moment of his creation and it was longer than time he spent in his cage. “But I loved him more,” no one will ever make him believe otherwise. He dares to say this out loud for the first time. Only there is no value to it anymore.

Still, the claim is bold. Even knowing whom Lucifer loved more than anything, his love for Michael was big, so big that it bore jealousy. But Gadreel dared to compete with it, dared to reach out for Michael and offer him his everything. And the fact that Michael never took it remains as bitter and hurtful gash across his numbed heart.

Lucifer raises his brow, expression is amused and offended at the same time, but also some kind of respect shows in his glare.

“Well, even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. And never did. Because Michael didn’t love you. Or me. Or anyone, really.”

Gadreel wishes he could say something to that. But isn’t it exactly what he’s been thinking since his wings were shackled? He understands why Michael didn’t try to defend him. But… Michael never came to see him. Just a sound of his voice could make it all more bearable. Gadreel longed for at least a single word whispered, dreamed of faint touch of his fingers. He would take anything and would be grateful. It’s unfair that Gadreel finds consolation in Lucifer’s words, that Michael didn’t love anyone.

Michael did show him affection, but it was hardly more than to any other. Always simple gestures, sometimes a bit awkward words, warm songs of dawns and cooling whisper of night. Nothing really special. Well, Gadreel was no one special. It was like Michael just dismissed his feelings or didn’t see them at all. But there was that moment where Gadreel finally saw some recognition, the moment where Michael reached out first, but the irony is that moment was the last he saw Michael.

“Look at me, Gadreel,” Lucifer orders. “Stop looking back, nothing’s left for you there.”

“Then I have nothing,” he concludes. All he has is his mistake, his torment and his punishment. Once he had Lord’s trust. He had his siblings’ devotion and love. Maybe it’s even better to have nothing at all.

“Well, if so, you have nothing to lose,” Lucifer reasons. “Find yourself a vessel and join me down on Earth. I want to show you something,” it’s an invitation Gadreel really can’t turn down. “Take your time.”

Gadreel is grateful for the solitude, and as much as he wants to get away from the tree of knowledge, he slumps against it and sinks to the ground. Funny, he never touched its fruits but learned the taste all too well nevertheless. Good. Evil. He made a choice that day. It wasn’t good or bad, it was his and perhaps it was wrong, but he could never beg for forgiveness and no one ever gave him a chance to explain.

Michael is dead and Gadreel wishes he could understand what it really means. He was angry at Michael, just as much as he was angry at Lucifer, maybe even more, because Michael mattered so much to him. But now the anger’s gone out without a trace and all he feels is bitter cold Lucifer’s ice left on him. It will take time to define his feelings, but this uncertainty doesn’t erase what used to be there.

As for Lucifer… Gadreel is at loss. At this point they have too much in common. Traitors. Prisoners. Once God’s most trusted angels. And then Michael... Gadreel feels like he too would do anything to cause Michael pain, were he alive. It’s ugly, but it’s honest. Anyway, Gadreel is not about to forgive Lucifer, not that Lucifer would want his forgiveness. What Lucifer wants from him, that’s the question.

Heavens are silent, angels barely whisper to each other. It’s not mournful, nor it’s fearful, mostly lost and obedient. No one is praised. No one is cursed. No one’s at fault. No one is innocent. Gadreel needs to get away before he drowns in this uncertain apathy. Finding a vessel comes naturally to him, even though he never did that before. He calls and souls answer, he picks one and asks the question. The connection to human soul fills his grace with fresh power, his wounds with healing light.  

Upon finding Lucifer in lonely house that reeks with death and grief, Gadreel witnesses a gruesome scene. Lucifer is happened to be busy torturing life out of two men. He does it casually, without getting his hands dirty. His victims bleed from every hole, their organs turn to mush and Lucifer makes sure they don’t miss a thing. Gadreel can’t help being nearly mesmerized by Lucifer’s scrupulousness, but interrupts the process before he intends to.

“Here already?” Lucifer acknowledges his presence. “Well, boys, before you go, know that Hell hurts thousand times worse,” and before realization hits men’s confused, empty from raw pain minds, their necks snap with loud crack. “Torturing them alive isn’t that much fun, but Nick should be happy now. Blood for blood, as I promised.”

Gadreel has no idea who Nick is. He really wants to get out of his house as soon as possible, but Lucifer doesn’t hurry anywhere, seemingly deep in silent conversation with someone here or with the place itself.

“You said you wanted to show me something,” Gadreel reminds him.

“Hmm? Ah, yes, but there is still time.”

“Time for what?”

Lucifer shrugs and replies:

“Now there is too much time for everything.” He stares at his own hands and shakes them as if they’re covered with something. “You loved humans,” Lucifer remembers glancing at two dead men.  

“I did,” Gadreel agrees. “I do.”

He was there for them since the sixth day of creation until the day they were exiled. He readily kneeled before them when Father ordered to. Even now, after everything, especially after everything he values Eve’s and Adam’s choice to take a bite of that fruit, because freedom is worth everything. In a way, he and Lucifer gave it to them.

Lucifer snorts.

“For me, their only redeeming quality is their mortality, and even that is very relative between Heaven and Hell.” After a pause he states: “I’m going to destroy them, eventually.” He gazes at Gadreel dangerously and expectantly. “Will you try to defend them? Will you take his place?”

His… Michael’s place. Gadreel casts his eyes down, considering his answer. Will he try to defend humanity? Perhaps. Will he take Michael’s place? Never. That place wasn’t meant for anyone else for many reasons. Lucifer knows it better than anyone. All feelings aside, Michael wasn’t interchangeable in most practical sense of the word.

“I don’t know,” Gadreel chooses the simplest answer. He has no chance against Lucifer. And strange thing – he feels no desire to fight him, not even a little. Even stranger, now he can honestly admit to himself that he missed Lucifer.

“I can see that you want to protect them. You are still tied to your ancient duty, you still feel that you owe Father that,” Lucifer says understandingly, though to Gadreel it might not be the whole truth. Lucifer steps closer and his sharp overwhelming grace envelopes Gadreel. “You know what, I won’t stop you. I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you see what they became.” Lucifer’s arms come around him, strong and demanding. Gadreel returns the embrace without thinking without denying how much he needs it. “Be mine, Gadreel,” archangel whispers into his ear. “I won’t betray you again,” he promises and Gadreel wants to believe.

Sorrow doesn’t become Lucifer, shadows can’t fall onto light itself, and yet that’s all Gadreel sees there.

“Do I have a choice?” he wonders.

Lucifer doesn’t have to answer. He can choose, of course he can, but there is no such thing as a right choice, Gadreel knows that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't a good chapter, was it? I mean, it could be better. Next chapter we'll finally see Michael! Well, what was left of him anyway :\


End file.
